Tying the Knot (Thalia Book 4) (The Thalia Series)

by Jennifer Bene

  A butter soft deer flogger had barely made her whimper.

  A thicker one had only drawn a yelp.

  And then he’d slid a bamboo cane from a container, wiped it down, and listened to her scream.

  She was beautifully marked, ass and thighs, and when she had begged in broken English for him to fuck her, he couldn’t have held back if he’d tried. Condoms were his rule, and he’d convinced Kalen of the same despite his distorted Catholic upbringing, but it paid off in situations like this. In some random city of the Czech Republic he’d fucked Jolana until she’d come twice more, and then he had finally let go.

  Unleashed his iron self-control and made her cry out as he’d thrust against her bruised ass and thighs, holding her hips in place as she’d braced against the wall.

  It was a bloody miracle they hadn’t hit the floor when he’d come buried deep, as the world went white and the pounding rhythm of the music had faded for a moment to leave only his racing pulse. She’d come here for the same thing, not even bothering to share her name until he’d demanded it when he was still holding the first flogger.

  That was the magic of these clubs. These temporary oases in a sea of rigidity leftover from Russian oppression. A new wave of youth breaking free of old rules with loud music, and leather, and whips and BDSM.

  Glancing over at Kalen, he couldn’t help but respect the guy. He cradled the other dark haired girl in his lap like something precious, stroking her hair and singing to her softly — yet another thing Kalen outmatched him on. The man could carry a tune like all the Scots, and what did he have to offer?

  James looked at the girl in his arms, her head against his shoulder as she recovered under the cover of his button-down, and he knew he couldn’t sing to her, couldn’t make sweet promises, but he could do the aftercare right. Both he and Kalen had learned the importance of that early in the summer.

  Find someone who wants what you want to give, and then give it to them. Watch their reactions, listen, never push it past what they can really handle. Listen for their chosen safe word.

  Respect them. Care for them. Hold them when the play is done. Ensure they are okay.

  But no matter the gentle side of it, there was no way he could do this back home. No way he could be this man in London where his parents were. This was for holiday. This was for men like Kalen without the weight of a family name weighing them down.

  It wasn’t something that James Thomas Hawkins, son of the Henry George Hawkins, could do.

  This was a fleeting taste of freedom, and in a week or so it would all be gone, never to be had again. Back to his reality, to his courses and his schoolwork, and his obligations.

  As if his friend could sense his thoughts, Kalen looked over at him and their eyes met for a moment. The warm smile that had first made him buy the bloke a drink crossed his face, and Kalen shrugged and looked at the two women, wordlessly encouraging him to just enjoy it.

  ‘Stop feking thinking’, the man’s voice echoed in his head. How many times had he said that in the last few weeks? Demanding that James stop trying to be so perfect, stop trying to be his father, but it was difficult. It was hard even with a beautiful submissive curled up in his lap, murmuring softly as she shifted and the vicious welts across her ass woke up.

  Pulling her closer to his chest, he checked that his shirt was covering her appropriately, likely more than that leather sheath had in the first place, but she was his for the moment, and that meant he was going to protect her. To watch over her — even if it were only for a little longer.

  “Musíme jít domů, Jolana.” The girl in Kalen’s lap spoke, and Jolana lifted her head, twisting to turn and face her friend, exposing herself in the process.

  “Nyní?” Jolana asked, and James kicked himself for not learning at least a little Czech before they’d stumbled into the Republic. Still, when she leaned up and kissed him gently he returned it, tugging her a little closer so she could understand without the language barrier how much he appreciated her trust. She was the one to cut it off. “We must go to home now.”

  “Of course. Thank you, Jolana. For tonight.” He smiled at her and she kissed him again before slipping off his lap, standing nude in the room without a single flicker of self-doubt. But, why should she? She was gorgeous, all soft feminine curves and round breasts, as she looked for her underwear and the dress.

  In a matter of moments the two girls were dressed, and he and Kalen were standing. “Can we take ye home?” he asked, but the girls waved the offer away.

  “No. This was fun, yes?” Kalen’s girl asked, and he grinned and pinched her ass where her welts still ached. The sweet yelp from her lips was clipped short by her laugh.

  “Very fun,” Kalen answered.

  “Are you here next week?” Jolana asked, and James shook his head, already knowing they were heading back towards central Europe the next day.

  “My apologies, beautiful, but we have to head home too.”

  “England?” she asked, a softness in her voice that made something tickle in his chest.

  Why did she sound sad?

  “I’ll be in London, Kalen back in Edinburgh.” James shrugged, plastering on the aristocrat smile that had pulled women towards him all summer. “But I don’t think I’ll forget tonight.”

  Even if I forget your name.

  “Well, you are good.” Jolana held up his shirt for him, and James took it with a shrug.

  “Thank you, but I’m not sure that’s the right word for me.”

  Laughing, Jolana caught her friend’s hand and locked eyes with him for a moment. “It is the right word. You are good, I know.” Winking at him, she turned and followed as her friend led her out of the back area, through the curtain, and into the storm of noise in the main club space.

  Sunrise was a few hours away, and in an hour or so they’d start shutting things down, packing everything away so this club could disappear like it had never been. The dilapidated couches they had lounged on might be left behind, or piled into the backs of trucks, James and Kalen would never know.

  And it really didn’t matter.

  “Drink?” Kalen offered, and James shrugged, knowing he’d pick up the tab either way.

  “That sounds like a brilliant idea.”

  A few minutes later they were back at the bar, except now the dancers were a little less energetic and the music slightly more docile, although the volume was still loud enough to make his bones vibrate. Kalen ordered two scotches, and whatever amber colored liquid they poured was definitively not scotch, but was a strong enough alcohol to numb the edges of reality now that the submissives were gone. “Yer thinking again,” Kalen chastised as he pressed the glass into his hand.

  “Term is starting soon, I’ve got to head back.” James took a sip, hissed at the harshness of it, and tried to stare out at the crowd and not the man who had quickly become his friend.

  “Right, yer fancy University that makes ye so happy.” A quiet scoff preceded the other man taking a long drink of the liquid, except Kalen didn’t even flinch at the acrid taste.

  “I thought you had given up on mocking me.”

  “Nah, I mostly stayed quiet so ye would keep buying our drinks!” That loud, booming laugh drew eyes towards them, but Kalen didn’t care a bit. Then the man settled his gaze on him, his voice turning serious, “Ye shouldn’t try so hard to be someone ye don’t want to be, James.”

  “You don’t understand.”

  “Yer right. I dinnae grow up with money, or all yer aristocratic prestige, but I do know when someone is the same and yer just like me, James. If ye can’t see that after all this, I dinnae know what ye want me to say.” Shrugging, Kalen turned his eyes to the crowd, leaving James to his own thoughts and the bitter alcohol that was supposed to pass for decent scotch in this corner of Eastern Europe.

  He’d been raised on nice things, nice liquors, nice manners — none of which fit in with the things he had always known he enjoyed. The look of a woman tied or bound, the
sweet sound of a feminine cry when he delivered the pain they craved, their moans of pleasure when he gave exactly what they needed. All of that was what made him happy, but it wasn’t reality. It was for back rooms. For underground basement holes like this makeshift club.

  It was a new millennium, yes, but the world was ever the same.

  The expectations weren’t changing.

  Especially his.

  James took another long drink, the burn barely registering amidst the blur of his thoughts, but he managed to form a few words. “I’ll miss you, Kalen. After I go back, I’m going to bloody miss this. Every bit of it.”

  “Oh, yer my brother now, whether ye want it or not. We dinnae share what we have without being brothers, and that means yer with me for life.” Kalen lifted his glass into the air like he’d made a proclamation to some waiting audience, and James could do nothing but chuckle and lift his glass as well.

  “Cheers to that.” He grinned and settled back against the bar. Remembering the times they had shared a submissive, striping her body, pinning her between them, making her come and clench them both. It had been good, the whole bloody summer had been wonderful. “Alright, brother. We still have about a week to make our way back to London. What do you have planned?”

  “Planned?” Kalen’s booming laughing came again, but it was infectious and the others around them were smiling despite their irritation. “I have nae planned a single step since I left Edinburgh, and I found my way to ye, so I dinnae think I’ll plan much at all.”

  “Well, then what about tomorrow?” It was hopeless to fight the tugging of his lips as he smiled at his friend, the man who had called him brother, and who understood him more than any relative by blood ever had.

  “Someone spoke of another event in Munich on Wednesday.” Kalen lifted his eyebrows, rolling his head until there were looking at each other again.

  “Munich is southwest, we need to be headed back towards England.”

  “Will the world end if yer a few days late, James?” With a grin, Kalen opened the door to temptation like he had so many times before, but it didn’t take much to get James to walk through. He’d behaved for so long, been the dutiful son for so long… this holiday had been the first time in his life he’d felt like a real person instead of a puppet. Some Pinocchio with golden strings tugged by his parents, bowing and obeying every whim.

  But he was never meant to bow, he knew that now.

  In his core, he knew he was meant for more.

  He was meant to be a Dominant.

  Just like Kalen was.

  “We can go to Munich.” James nodded, laughing when Kalen let out a cheer and turned to order another round. They’d had their fun with a pair of beautiful submissives, and the hotel room was reserved, waiting for them to stumble back.

  This time, Kalen had the good sense to order the local vodka and it tasted much cleaner, and made both of them a little less homesick for the good whisky of their countries. Tapping their glasses, Kalen leaned against the bar to take a deep breath. “Ye know, I was sure I was broken when I left Edinburgh. Damned and cursed…” A long beat of silence followed his words, filled by the music still pounding loudly against the earthen walls. “But ye understand, don’t ye? This thing we both want. What Elita and Jolana wanted.”

  “I understand,” James agreed, but it was bittersweet. Once he and Kalen had found the right connections, it hadn’t been hard to find the next party in the next city. The next submissive, or pair of submissives, or orgy of similarly minded people. It was like an undercurrent in the world, pulsing just under the surface, and one simply needed the right set of words, the right address, the right date and time to tap into it.

  Any other day of the week, this place would be a vacant building. Abandoned post-World War II. Some useless factory from the USSR days, coated in snow outside so dense that James still wondered if the girls they’d let leave without an escort had warm enough clothes to protect them. But, they had been given the address, the date and time, the right words to say — and here they were.

  Twisted wishes satisfied.

  James smiled to himself, staring down into the clear liquid in his glass as he spoke, “I really will miss this when it’s over, brother.”

  “Who says it has to end? Ye can find a girl like that in London, ye just have to look.”

  Scoffing, James glanced at his friend. “Like you can find a girl in Edinburgh?”

  “Scotland is different, and ye know that.”

  “Say whatever you like, Kalen, we both know that this world, that girls like this, are few and far between, and we’re going to have to give it up eventually.” His next drink had a satisfying burn to it, settling into the heat already thrumming in his veins, beckoning him towards the oblivion of getting fully pissed so he could block out his future for a few more days.

  “Ye dinnae think ye will marry a girl like this?” Kalen laughed again, but it was lower, more subtle. “Ye would be miserable if ye married someone else.”

  “Maybe I’ll never get married then, it’s not like I have to.” Shrugging, James upended his glass and turned around, waving at the woman behind the makeshift tables and shelves that served as the bar in this place. She was already pouring when he heard Kalen huff out a breath, turning as well.

  “We both know yer parents will want ye to marry.”

  The narrow, pointed truth of it would have hurt more if he weren’t already near drunk. “They have Katherine for that.”

  “What about the family name?” Kalen asked, and the weight of reality returned despite James’ growing inebriation.

  “Fuck the family name. No one will want me for me.” James snagged the next drink almost before the bartender had let go of it, taking a long draught. All of the painful realities he’d tried so desperately to escape piling one on top of the other in his mind. “They’ll either want my family name, or our money.” He stole another drink as he stared at the smooth grain of the bar top. “…or they’ll want some aristocrat to smile at their dinners, to bring some elegance to their home, and I just can’t.”

  “James—”

  “You know it’s true, Kalen, even if it’s not the same as your issues. When I go home, I’m going back to the proverbial silver spoon and all that comes with it.” James raised a hand at the room around them. Leather clad, alcohol infused, where the soft cries of submissives from beyond the DJ seemed to blend with the music like they were meant for it. “This world will never pass for acceptable.”

  “Ye dinnae know that, James.”

  Lifting his eyes to his friend, he shrugged and tossed back the last of his new drink, welcoming the blur that waited beyond it. “I don’t know what woman would be able to handle both halves of me. The aristo and the dominant.”

  “She’s out there, just like there’s a woman waiting for a poor Scotsman who is a shitty Catholic.” Kalen tipped up his own glass to finish it, and the both of them rested their glasses on the bar top for a refill, which the bartender seemed to sense without any direction.

  “You still go to church every Sunday, Kalen. Don’t think I haven’t noticed.”

  The other man laughed softly, nodding at the woman behind the bar before he lifted his glass. “Yeh. I’ve been burning priests’ ears from Warsaw, to Rome, to Edinburgh itself. It doesn’t make me any less damned, or any more worthy of a good woman.” Kalen faced him head on before adding, “But yer different, James. There will be someone for ye, even if I never find a woman for me.”

  “It seems to me we’re both snookered then.”

  “Ye mean we’re royally feked,” Kalen summarized as he tilted back his drink.

  “Although the Queen might disagree, I’ll have to say yes.” James left it at that, knowing that another drink was coming on the heels of this one, and likely another after that. By dawn they’d be well and truly pissed and asking for directions back to the hotel in broken variations of English and German and Russian.

  Because who would ever want all of
the strings attached to someone like him? James Thomas Hawkins, hopeless dominant and heir to his family’s power and control with all the messy society rules and expectations that came with it.

  Many would want one, without the trouble of the other, but one thing he’d learned running around Europe with Kalen was that the two halves could not be separated.

  He was all or nothing — which meant most likely he’d be all and alone. Forever.

  We all know James and Kalen find their happiness, but I hope you enjoyed this sneak peek into their first Summer together. Thank you for all your support, lovelies. It means the world to me.

  About the Author

  Jennifer Bene is an international bestselling author of erotic romance. She’s had #1 top-selling books in BDSM, Suspense, Thrillers, Action & Adventure, Fantasy, Science Fiction, and Horror. While she’s been writing for years, it’s always been the dark stuff that makes her tingly, so her books are full of aggressive alpha males, feisty women who may or may not have a submissive streak, and intense, psychological storylines. Don’t worry though, she also insists on having a nice little happily-ever-after! Because without the dark, we’d never appreciate the light.

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  Books by Jennifer Bene

  Dark / BDSM Erotic Romance:

  Security Binds Her (Thalia Book 1)

  Striking a Balance (Thalia Book 2)

  Salvaged by Love (Thalia Book 3)